


Ornament

by Emmbee_89



Series: An Ineffable Christmas [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, M/M, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), so soft it practically became a proposal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmbee_89/pseuds/Emmbee_89
Summary: Aziraphale has been collecting ornaments since humans started making them, but there's one in his collection that's special.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: An Ineffable Christmas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570000
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Ornament

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a direct sequel to the previous work in this series, "Pine," but you shouldn't need to read that one to understand this. I hope you enjoy!

_A cottage in the South Downs  
_ _2020_

Aziraphale set down the box in front of the bare-limbed evergreen he’d finally managed to get standing straight. (If he sensed a small whiff of demonic energy propping it up on the one off-balance side, he didn’t say anything. Let Crowley think he didn’t notice the assistance — his demon never did like to be thanked.)

Crowley was still sitting sprawled across the couch, in the boneless, contented position he always took after a thorough snogging. He raised an eyebrow as Aziraphale set down the crate. “What’s this, then?”

“Ornaments, my dear. For the tree.”

“You have _ornaments?_ When did you go shopping?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, only pulled the top off the crate and grinned down at the mismatched collection of cloth and blown glass baubles, scraps of carved stones, wire-wrapped memories, inside the box.

Truth was, he’d been collecting such things since humans first started making them, fastidiously adding one special piece to his collection every year.

He was a collector of things, a curator of memories, but he’d never had the chance to take these particular trinkets out and hang them on a tree.

He’d never had a reason to get a tree.

It felt like a big step — obviously not as big as breaking ties with Heaven to stop the end of the world, or finally, finally, finally taking Crowley’s hand, pulling him close, and whispering that he loved him — but it _felt_ as big.

It was … exposing, pulling out such a nonsense assortment of things and displaying them to the world.

Crowley got up from the couch and knelt down beside the box. “Well? What are we working with?” He reached in and grabbed something at random, and Aziraphale didn’t miss how careful he was to not shift or damage the fragile glass sitting at the top. He peered curiously at the small gray rock in his hand.

Aziraphale flushed. Of course that would be the one he’d picked up. Of all the proper Christmas ornaments in the box, ones he could explain as gifts from friends or the first time humans figured out how to blow glass, he’d have to shine a spotlight on _that one._

“It’s … a rock?”

“Ah. Yes?” Aziraphale didn’t mean for his voice to tilt toward a question, but his words often did things without his permission.

“You wanna hang a rock on a Christmas tree?” There was a laugh hiding under the confusion in Crowley’s voice. A _ridiculous angel doesn’t know ornaments are supposed to be pretty_ sort of laugh.

Aziraphale’s blush deepened, spread out past his cheeks to his ears and down his neck.

Last year, Heaven tried to execute him with a column of Hellfire. For a brief moment, he almost wished they’d succeeded.

“Angel?” The teasing edge of Crowley’s voice was gone as he seemed to realize Aziraphale’s embarrassment ran deeper than their usual banter. He lowered the rock and slid a little closer to Aziraphale’s side. “Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make fun of something, y’know, important. These are pretty, never seen them before. How long have you—”

“It’s from the Garden.”

His voice came out small, embarrassed, barely loud enough to interrupt Crowley’s unsubtle attempt at changing the subject. A part of him wanted — wanted desperately — to allow his attention to be diverted, but another, larger, part wanted… Well…

To talk about it.

Crowley went quiet for a moment; Aziraphale didn’t dare look up at him, but he could feel the demon’s gaze on the side of his head, his thoughts turning over as he parsed what, exactly, he was trying to say. And then a breath whooshed out of him, and the next inhale was just a bit unsteady. “You mean … _the_ Garden?”

Aziraphale nodded, still not able to pull his eyes up from where they rested, unseeing, at the edge of the ornament box.

“Why do you have a rock from the Garden?”

“I took it. Just before…” He cleared his throat of the lump squeezing at his breath. “Just before God sent me away.”

“And you’ve been carrying it around ever since?”

Aziraphale nodded again.

There was a long silence between them, and finally Aziraphale couldn’t stand not knowing anymore; he peeked up to find Crowley’s eyes, wide and uncovered, boring holes into his skull.

“It’s from the Eastern wall,” he added suddenly, though he didn’t mean to admit that much.

“That’s where we…”

“You kicked it on your way down.”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley slid a little closer and tilted his head down until it rested against Aziraphale’s. His fingers had closed around the little rock with the same firm, gentle touch the angel knew so well. His voice trembled slightly. “You old sop.”

“It felt like a significant moment. I … didn’t want to let that be all of it. I didn’t want to not have something to hold onto.”

“So you’ve carried a little piece of Eden with you ever since.”

“I … yes, I suppose I have.”

“You old sop,” Crowley repeated, whispering now.

He didn’t let Aziraphale put the rock on the tree, pocketing it instead. And the next year, when Aziraphale pulled out the ornament box again to decorate their second tree, he found something new sitting at the top.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, picking up the ring and finding a familiar bit of stone set into the gold band. “But where’s the rest of it?”

Crowley grinned and pulled a second ring from his pocket. Settled securely in the gold was the other half of the little Garden rock. “So we can both carry a little bit of Eden with us.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, this wasn't meant to tiptoe toward a proposal fic, but then Crowley REALLY wanted to get rings made, so *shrug.* Whattcha gonna do?


End file.
